The Forest That Whispered
by Takai No Hibiki
Summary: SYOT It's just another Game, just another year. Only, for the chosen tributes, it may be their year. The world doesn't care about that, though. Before the end, tributes will go insane, animals will talk, prophecies will be broken, and children will die.
1. fun in numbers

**The Forest That Whispered...**

_...you shall die._

...Game Start...Thirty Minutes Elapsed

-fun in numbers-

* * *

"We shouldn't charge forward recklessly. We don't know anything about the arena yet, so even we could fall victim to it at this point. There's no harm in waiting just a day. We can plan in the meantime, and strike in the morning, when they'll still be drowsy and sleepy," said the severe eighteen year old from District 1. His arms were crossed and, despite the thin flecks of blood scattered across his front, he breathed evenly as he and the District 2 tributes faced off.

"The longer we wait, the harder it will be to find them! Are you afraid of a couple of weak little kids who haven't so much as lifted a knife before last week? I have no idea why you volunteered if you are," the other boy retorted. To his credit, he quickly regained his composure and unpleasant snarl after the District 1 boy laughed lightly, as if indulging a friend who had told a particularly dry joke.

"Maybe I am afraid," he humored the boy from Two. "But if I'm afraid of anything, it isn't the other humans in this forest; it's the forest itself. Humans, I know I can kill, but the forest is something else. It would do you well to have a little caution."

Larkin watched the exchange between the two boys in mild amusement. If he ignored the words they spoke and concentrated on how they expressed them instead, he could imagine any normal playground argument taking place in front of him.

"Don't just stand there; take something, will you?" his district partner nudged him. The girls were dividing up the supplies and weapons, pointedly ignoring the debating threesome that stood just outside the rim of the Cornucopia. There wasn't an end in sight, but he supposed that was exactly what Silvius Cyriaca, the District 1 tribute, wanted.

He was playing the waiting game. Luckily for him, people were much more impatient than say, a cat, for example. Larkin scowled, but only briefly as he remembered the staring contest he had once held with the neighborhood cat. He hadn't meant to stop on the way home from school, but ended up sitting on the pebbly ground for a good half hour before the cat grew bored and left.

Finally answering his partner's call, Larkin turned around and passed a quick glance over the pile of weapons. There was a gleaming assortment of metallic objects, perfect for bludgeoning trees - or human flesh. Because he had to select something, because he had been _forced _to promise that he would try, at least a little, to play this game, Larkin picked up a utility knife and a spear.

He set the unwieldy spear aside and tucked the knife into his belt. Then, he found a pleasant enough patch of grass that wasn't worn or blood-splattered, and settled down to listen to the argument taking place next door.

"When we go hunting, we should stick to the waterways. Everyone needs water. If they're not traveling directly on a river, they'll be nearby. Because they will always need it, they'll never be able to stray far unless they want to chance facing dehydration. Half of us should do this. The other half can follow your original plan."

"Instead of waiting, we can do that now."

"You're wasting time by arguing," the girl from Two pointed out to her partner. He scowled.

Larkin's district partner, Andromeda, stood in front of him with her hands on her hips and a slight hint of a frown. He blinked up at her wearily, squinting in the sunlight that was almost directly overhead. She might have been a bit severe, like Silvius Cyriaca, but she was nice enough. Most people in this Game were probably "nice enough", actually.

"You do intend on doing _something,_ don't you?" she asked him in an unnecessarily low voice. As if anyone could hear anything over the clamor in the background. The unnatural glint of metallic hovercrafts flickered in and out of his field of vision, too. He hadn't bothered to count the casualties. Her voice strangely strained, she asked, "Pull your own weight."

Larkin's listless gaze swept over the thin area of open land that housed the Cornucopia, set into the massive alcove of a cliff face. Some of the tributes had started out with the overhang above their heads. It hadn't been easy to fight in the dim lighting, even for the Careers. A few of them sported mild wounds.

"You could have killed me, you know," Larkin mentioned absently. If he kept his mind focused on the silvery gleam of a fish's scales and the peaked, smooth fins of a shark, he could still talk about this freely with her.

_Like the ocean, it gives life and takes life as it pleases. We may call it unfair, but that is the nature of things that human hands cannot change._

Andromeda scowled. "Not that again. Didn't you promise hi-"

"I promised _him,_ not you. Besides, you want to go home to your brother, right? He needs you. You might be able to win." Larkin paused, licked his lips, and glanced at the two boys arguing. The girl from Two had given up on talking some sense into her partner.

Her gaze softened at the mention of her sibling, the only living relative she had left. He was twelve, if Larkin remembered correctly, and had another six anxiety-ridden years before he was free from the Reapings. He didn't know much about the older girl, but it was easy to see where her priorities were during her interview.

"Don't worry about me," he finally offered. It didn't do much to reassure her, but Larkin was almost certain that she agreed to look after him, at least for a little while, for their mentors. Once Andromeda moved away, he allowed himself to wander away in his thoughts once again.

Truthfully, it didn't do much to reassure him, either. But he had resolved before he even stepped on that train that he wouldn't involve himself too much in this game. The entire time the other tributes were worrying over dying, he had been contemplating his death.

It was the easiest thing. Now he was just biding his time, playing at being a Career, and he didn't quite know why. For various other reasons, Larkin Shearwater had already decided to die.

* * *

• Story started, so the application form is gone and is now on my profile. If you want to submit a character still, go there.

**Sponsorship System**

You receive 10 points for every character you submit, _whether or not he/she is accepted._ You receive 5 points for every review. Either review or PM me when you want to use these up. _You_ keep track of these points. I will, as well, but don't rely on me to remind you every chapter. You probably know more about what you can buy for this game than I do, so just pop in a note of what you want to buy.

* Bonus: You receive 20 points if you know where the references I make in the story are from. A big hint? I watch a lot of anime/manga/Japanese dramas, but not all of them are from there.


	2. the snake charming

**The Forest That Whispered...**

_...you shall die._

...The Reaping...En Route to the Capitol

-the snake charming-

* * *

In the moment after he heard his name called, Larkin Shearwater felt an unfamiliar flutter of apprehension bloom in his chest. Almost as soon as it came he suppressed it, and even as the world moved around him - reacting, shifting, surging - he remained the same. Larkin Shearwater was a peculiar child, they had always said, because he maintained such indifference no matter what happened around him.

No one volunteered for him, but it didn't hurt him nearly as much as it hurt his family. Larkin had already known that it was silly for some stranger to risk his life for him. He had no right to ask that of anyone, and so his face remained expressionless, his eyes half-lidded as normal.

It wasn't true that Larkin Shearwater felt no emotions whatsoever, though. While he buried his anxiety in a deep place where it couldn't bother him, his family's grief assaulted him like a brutal, frothing wave. He wished that he could take away their pain, make it so that they somehow didn't care for him, but knew that it was impossible.

Even though he reassured them that it would be fine, he had already made up his mind.

_I will die._ He considered that sentence introspectively as he and the girl tribute, Andromeda, stepped onto the train that would carry them across the continent. Unlike when his name was called, he didn't feel that flutter of anxiety, nor did he feel sad or furious. It was a curious type of sentence, something that few would ever have reason to utter.

Actually, Larkin had resolved years ago to never play this game if he was selected. It was the reason why he never practiced.

If he tried to win and failed, wouldn't his family be that much more heartbroken? Already, their grandson and nephew was just about some stranger they didn't know anymore, who lived in their home and looked liked he belonged, but never quite fit. The deaths of his parents when he was young had shattered their family dynamic; he could remember snatches of those times with amazing clarity.

If he gave up hope in the beginning, it would hurt, but less, he was sure.

When he tried to explain this to his mentors, he could tell by their increasing bewilderment that they thought he was joking. Neither of them had ever met him in their life, because it was probably impossible to know everyone in the entire district, even if they were celebrities. Therefore, they had no idea that Larkin Shearwater was the type of person who had made indifference into an art form, who was absolutely serious.

He tried to explain it a few times, but eventually gave up. His partner Andromeda Clefur was a year older and had been reaped, although she was also in training. The short girl eyed him and settled their mentors' confusion by informing them that he was probably serious, and was the type that never put any effort into anything. She probably didn't mean it to be malicious, but her words were sharp as she spoke, most likely due to stress.

The next misunderstanding between them came when the old woman, Mags, had tried to be _motherly_ towards them. In normal terms, she probably wasn't that bad, and was merely offering her concern, pity, and guidance, but Larkin shifted away and disengaged from the conversation pretty fast.

"Now what's the problem?" asked Andromeda. Larkin shook his head. If they didn't believe him when he explained his resolution to lose, they wouldn't believe him on this.

He hardly understood it, himself. There was a part of him, though, that understood it perfectly.

_Don't be kind to me, when I can't offer you anything in return._

"Alright, then," declared his other mentor, Finnick Odair. Now grown into his body, the victor was no longer an awkward teenager and more of the kind of handsome man that girls continued to swoon over. "I'll see if I can't talk any sense into you."

They separated from the girls, but it didn't change Larkin's behavior. He was vaguely more comfortable around someone who didn't remind him of his constantly worrying family, but their two different airs clashed.

"Why don't you want to win?" was the first thing he asked, for the third time. "This isn't a normal game. If you lose, you die. I need to know if you're absolutely serious about this. Because if you are..."

He left that part unsaid. They could pool their efforts into helping Andromeda and spend their resources on her. District 4 was touch-and-go as far as victors went. Sometimes they won, and sometimes they didn't.

"Besides that, I know your family. I've never really seen you around, but..."

Larkin's vision flickered to the ground and his hands, laying flat on his lap. He so often wandered into a world all his own, his heads drifting in the clouds, that he hadn't realized that he tended to see Finnick Odair around more than he thought. He should have came to the realization that his family did own a general store, which meant that all sorts of customers came by.

"There...there's a reason I never train, you know," Larkin finally said. His eyes kept wandering listlessly. It was a bit too troublesome to say that he didn't want to talk to the guy now. "I don't want to win. I don't want to die, of course. But I don't want to win even more.

"And my family might be sad, but I always thought that if I did one day get reaped, it wouldn't hurt them as much if I had already given up."

"Why...don't you want to win?" Finnick Odair ventured. But, his posture did not match his tone, and the brief glance Larkin got of his eyes did not match his confidence. He had no way of telling what someone so different from himself was thinking, other than the fact that it was something he couldn't share.

Not that Finnick Odair's reasons had anything to do with Larkin Shearwater's reasons.

"I don't like the spotlight. You probably know that already. _If_ I won, I would have to do all the things you and the other victors do. It's a life of fame and fortune and I have never wanted that in my life. It makes things too complicated. Life is complicated enough as it is."

Of course, saying it and believe it were two different things. Later that night, Larkin would agonize over his decision, like any normal human being. He contemplated his death until it no longer bothered him and forced himself to believe that it was fine this way.

"At least try," was Finnick Odair's final verdict. "For your family, at least try. Aren't they important to you at all?"

That was how Larkin Shearwater made it past the first half hour of the Games unscathed.

* * *

• There was supposed to be more descriptive language, thus the title, _the snake charming,_ but...yeah.

• I know it's weird that he never refers to Finnick by a single name, only by his full one, but I meant to do that...


	3. empty chase

**The Forest That Whispered...**

_...you shall die._

...Game Start...Two Hours Elapsed

-empty chase-

* * *

The plan had been decided since the second day of training. Among the sea of other tributes, half of which were scared and desperate out of their wits, the other half of which was vicious and calculating, Alex had actually found someone he could trust, at least for a little while.

He tightened his fist around the strap of a pack he had managed to snatch, as well as the heavy, metallic spear in his other hand. It had been pure luck that this year's arena was set up so that the Cornucopia was half inside the alcove of a cliff. If not for the dim lighting and close quarters, he and Ben wouldn't have managed to grab as much as they did.

The plan had been to grab what they could safely and flee into the surrounding area together. During training, the two boys found that they got along quite well. Alex wasn't stupid. He knew that he had to make at least one ally if he wanted to win this thing, someone who was trustworthy enough that he wouldn't have to worry about being stabbed in the back until the end.

They were both capable and determined. Together, he knew that they could make it decently far. If he had to face the Careers at one point (and he would, he was sure), then he had to have a partner.

They were running now, crashing through the forest, disturbing every bit of foliage around them, but there wasn't time for stealth. The bloodbath might not have turned out quite as bloody as normal, thanks to the restrictions on the Careers in that narrow space where they had started out, but it didn't mean they could relax.

Eventually though, even these two fit boys had to slow down. They had zigzagged through the forest so much that he couldn't have found his way back if he tried. This arena seemed to have nothing but trees and that cliff where they started, and he supposed it served as good cover.

"What did you get?" he asked Ben Fellows, the boy from District 11. His eyes faced forward, but he could hear Ben's labored breath as he rustled through his pack. Alex did the same.

"I snatched a few knives. I was expecting to get nothing at all, or some useless little dagger that couldn't stab a tree if it tried, but what I've got is pretty good." Alex remembered seeing his ally dart over to the glimmering Cornucopia, watching him anxiously from the treeline as the other boy picked at the wares for a few seconds. It had been hard for the Careers to reach the Cornucopia, along with a few unlucky tributes who had started in the back, against the wall.

"I have this spear, and I got a pack. It has...a sleeping bag and some tablets in here." He turned the package over. "For purifying water. Other than that, some matches...and that's it."

"Oh, great, we can make a fire to attract the Careers to kill us faster," Ben scoffed, although he probably didn't mean to insult Alex. He had learnt that Ben was just that type of guy. His words seemed harsh, but his heart was in a good place. "Oh, and I also snatched this bit of wire. Don't know what we could use it for, but it's something."

"Hey," Alex said suddenly, after they had been walking for quite a while. Everything here looked the same. The trees towered above their heads, blocking out all but spotty patches of sunlight. He hated to think of how cold it would be at night, with or without the Gamemakers' tweaking. They had passed a thin stream, but it couldn't sustain more than a mouse.

Ben made a small noise to indicate that he was listening. Mostly, they were concentrating on walking through the undergrowth. Brambles, shrubs, and fallen, decaying tree limbs were quite common here.

"Isn't it strange? Hardly any cannons have gone off, only those seven in the beginning. I haven't heard a single one since. You can usually hear those things, no matter where you are," Alex pondered, glancing up at the canopy above. He could catch brief glimpses of the sky, but it was hard to see clearly.

"Careers will still be Careers. Just because they're not on a killing spree doesn't mean they've turned over a new leaf. I guess that is strange, though. I didn't see anything that would stop them from chasing weak, defenseless tributes. Maybe they got smart this year and are actually planning something," Ben considered lightly with a shrug. "Let's not think too much about it."

"Right, right..."Alex nodded. "We should start looking out for somewhere to sleep for tonight, too. It's probably going to get cold. It's already pretty chilly in here. We can take turns standing watch, but I guess we can't make a fire unless there's a lot of fog. We should find food, too, shouldn't we? At least we have this spear..."

"Water's more important," Ben said. "Let's find water first, and then worry about all that. Maybe there'll be fish. I've never fished before, but this seems like a good time to try it."

Alex eyed him, wondering where that usual bite of sarcasm in his tone went. For the short period of time he had known the fifteen year old, he had learnt that the boy was just that kind of person. It was still hard for him to tell whether Ben was sincere or not, but that part of him seemed to have taken a vacation. Maybe it had to do with the Games.

Alex scoffed and corrected himself. Of course it had to do with the Games. It always had to do with the Games.

* * *

• An explanation, since people seem confused by this story: I am skipping the Reapings, training, interviews, etc. on purpose. I'm taking the _en medias res_ approach, which means that I'm starting in the middle of the action, passing over the information that would normally be introduced in the beginning. This information will instead be revealed through flashbacks (such as the last chapter) and character interactions throughout the story.

So don't freak out if you don't see your tribute yet. I'm getting there.

• If you want to, you can start using your sponsor points.


	4. fighting personas

**The Forest That Whispered...**

_...you shall die._

...Game Start...Two and a Half Hours Elapsed

-fighting personas-

* * *

She had trained all her life for this. She was ready. Of course she was. There were no other options. Back at the Academy, she had been a popular candidate for the female tribute of her year. She happened to be Reaped, but that was just coincidence - her entire district cheered her on as she serenely drifted onstage.

The entire time, she had been thinking about her sisters, unable to glance at them for fear of the cameras that picked up every emotion that crossed a tribute's face. Only in the privacy of the small room where she had been allowed to say her goodbyes did she tear up a bit and hug them close. Ever since then, she had been preventing herself from acting anything more than the fiery Career.

It wasn't so bad, coming here with Silvius Cyriaca, of all people. It could have been worse. At least she knew that he played by the rules and fought by a code of standards. She had grown up as his classmate, knew his fighting style, and had a little more understanding of his personality than anyone else out here.

Still, she hoped that the end of this game didn't see the both of them alive.

Silvius was one of those strange Career boys, she had decided a long time ago. If he could, he probably _would_ make sure the two of them made it to the end - not to kill her himself or put their district in an awkward place, but because he felt responsible, in some way.

That had always annoyed her, just a little bit.

He seemed to annoy the District 2 boy even more, though. She had watched them for a good while, bored out of her mind as they sorted supplies and drew up a plan in the dirt. The only thing Silvius seemed to want to accomplish today was formulating a plan and scouting out the area. Just as he always did in class, he never offered much of a reason why.

"Just calm down already," she intoned to the District 2 boy with a bored, drawling voice. He looked ready to curse her out. "Silvius's plans are normally pretty good, even if they sound a bit weird at first. Besides, he's already promised that you get to lead the search teams, so stop fussing about."

The District 4 girl, Andromeda, broke the tension (that only existed between those two boys) by suggesting that someone scout out the cliff looming over their heads.

Grateful for the distraction, Carmen stood and followed the District 4 girl's head of dark hair. She wasn't much of a hiking girl, but it was better than sitting around all day.

The cliff was steep and probably manufactured by the Capitol, but it felt like real rock that occasionally crumbled underneath her feet. It turned out that it was more of a small mountain or a rocky hill, the top rounded. It was a far drop to the ground below where the other Careers were. Stepping away from the edge, she consulted Andromeda.

"It's easy to see everything from here." Carmen turned around to get a full view of the surrounding forest. It seemed that the entire arena was forest, with not even a plain or two to break it up. A narrow, uncertain line traced its way through the forest, probably a river that flowed through the space. At least they found their water source. Part of the river wasn't too far from here, and it looped all the way around the hill, too.

"We'll need to post guards up here, but it does seem nice. We'll have the advantage," Andromeda nodded. "By the way...does your district partner really know what he's talking about?"

Carmen glanced at her. "Him? Yeah, he does. Silvius just doesn't talk much. If I had to guess what he's the best at, it's strategy. He's pretty calm."

_Well, that all can change, _she considered, _but I really doubt that Silvius Cyriaca will change that much._

Carmen herself was a different story. She inwardly grimaced at how Maya and Belle had to see their big sister, even though she knew they would be cheering for her, up to a point, anyways. Who knew how they would feel after the Game wore on, when it got grittier and messier. They were so young that Belle couldn't even remember much about the Hunger Games that occurred when she was alive.

The two girls wandered back down the hill carefully. Thankfully, the other tributes had fled into the forest, where it was safer and easier to avoid the Careers. They wouldn't have dreamed of climbing the hill, since it would slow them down. There _was_ a bow and arrow in the Cornucopia, though.

She didn't really know who could even use it. She was alright, not well enough to hit small, moving targets, but still a decent shot. It was part of the standard training, just in case. Bows and arrows took time to learn, though, so they didn't really focus on it in the Academy. It was only if students wanted to learn more that they went for extra lessons.

Of course, Carmen wasn't all buddy-buddy with Silvius (in fact, it was kinda hard to remember who _was_), so she didn't really know if he could use one or not. Andromeda grew up in District 4, which meant it wouldn't have been her specialty, and her district partner seemed a bit...useless. With that District 2 boy chomping at the bit, she expected him to go first among their alliance.

The District 2 boy wasn't overly buff and muscular, but he had pulled an impressive score in training. She assumed that something made up for that lack of strength, but he didn't seem like a strategist, either. She couldn't see him holding a bow and arrow. The District 2 girl was more like her, with probably a basic understanding of it.

Besides, the District 2 boy had those strange scars. She didn't know if they hurt him, but mottled red and purple skin engulfed half of his left hand, extending past the sleeves. There were also traces of it on his face, near his left eye. With make up it was invisible, but it seemed that even surgery couldn't get rid of the damage.

Carmen and Andromeda wandered back to their camp to find that, thankfully, the squabble was over for now.

* * *

• See, we're getting somewhere? My challenge is still up for grabs. If you can find the references, you win extra points.

• Carmen belongs to fantasymoon1, Andromeda belongs to Designation DarkLullaby, Alex and Ben belong to JasNorden352, the currently unintroduced Lilly Fanning belongs to LouisVuittonluver. And Silvius, Larkin, Alecto, Dextera, and Neophyte belong to me.


	5. a cloudy night

**The Forest That Whispered...**

_...you shall die._

...Game Start...Six Hours Elapsed

-a cloudy night-

* * *

By the end of the day, only seven were dead. The citizens in the Capitol must have been perplexed as they anxiously watched their screens, the highlights remarkably dull after the bloodbath unless there had been skirmishes Lily didn't know about.

For the most part, she had been wandering around with her ally, a girl from District 5. It was more due to Lily's brazen attitude than her partner's that they had the meager supplies that would have to sustain them for the duration of the Games. Unless they could steal from the Careers or find their own way to acquire supplies, this was all they had.

Lily thought it was enough, not much, but just enough to cause a bit of mischief. She had made sure to grab a knife before she ran off, even though she had received a nick on the shoulder for her efforts. The District 8 girl who was supposed to be in their alliance wasn't so lucky.

She hadn't seen her die, but she knew that when only the girl from five followed her, the other had not made it. Lily mourned her death as she and the surviving girl, Yasmine, picked their way through the forest. Of course, Lily didn't really feel all that bad. This was the game, after all, to kill one another. It was no different than those playground bullies who plucked the wings off flies and laughed as they twitched.

If she was supposed to feel sorry for the humans who died, then people should feel sorry for the flies that died. People didn't pity flies in the least, so she figured that she wasn't supposed to feel sorry for them, either.

Although, Lily did act more sympathetic than Yasmine, who was trying to hold her emotions back. She could see it clearly on her face and reassured her that the cameras were probably focused on the Careers, so it was alright to cry.

She also wasn't that naive. She knew that since there really hadn't been many deaths so far, only the cluster of cannons after the bloodbath, that the cameras would be all over the other tributes. If Yasmine believed her, then that was all her fault. Lily may have said, "You can trust me", but this was the _Hunger Games_ and people were liars at heart, anyways._  
_

"That means they're going to set off things soon unless exciting stuff happens," Lily mentioned to Yasmine that night as the lights faded from the sky. They were camped out, cold, but tucked between two tall trees and surrounded by prickly bushes. They each had a sleeping bag and would take watch during the night, but Lily somehow doubted that the Careers would act now, this late at night.

They had found a large river that seemed to cut straight through the arena, but slept rather far away from it. It just wasn't safe.

Lily took the first watch. There was nothing to do. She could hardly see two feet in front of her. It was boring, but she waited as Yasmine quickly dropped off to sleep.

This was a game in which those who used others efficiently won. That was why the Careers usually won, because they played it right. Finally, finally Lily had found herself in a game where _her_ rules applied, where she excelled. There were people here who understood her train of thought.

_Everyone exists for you to use to your advantage._

Still, she hadn't joined the Careers. She had to face the fact that at sixteen, she wasn't trained and was just as scrawny as the others in her home, District 3. She had little physical strength and this year, the Careers seemed a notch smarter, a but more aware than the normal lot. Still, her plan from the moment she was Reaped wasn't to gain their trust, but to use them to get rid of most of the competition. All she had to do was avoid them.

Yasmine, after all, was just as weak as her, but less skilled and less determined. She trusted Lily, to some extent, anyway. But if she expected that when it was just the two of them left that they would be on equal footing, she was wrong.

Lily was winning this. After all, she had to prove that her rules were true. There was no room in this life for compassion and sympathy. She sometimes wondered whether or not those things even existed, and if all other people were actors, just like her. Maybe they didn't really feel those emotions, either. But they were so convincing and impassioned that she was inclined to believe it was only her who was different.

_You don't feel all that bad for killing that chicken you're eating, do you?_ Especially since food was scarce, hardly any one back home felt bad for eating.

Lily nestled into her sleeping bag and closed her eyes. There weren't going to be any disturbances tonight. Might as well take advantage of that while she could. Tomorrow they would have to find food and avoid the Careers, but she was ready for whatever plan they had thought up.

She fingered the knife at her side and tucked it deeper in her pocket.

* * *

• Just to introduce all of the characters...Yasime was made up on the spot. This one was a bit shorter, but...whatever. After this, the story becomes a little less linear...feel free to ask questions if you're confused about the timeline of events.


	6. to catch a tiger by the tail

**The Forest That Whispered...**

_...you shall die._

...Day Two...evening

-to catch a tiger by the tail-

* * *

As promised, the next day Silvius Cyriaca allowed him to do what he wanted in terms of leading the hunting group. They divided their numbers, leaving some to guard the Cornucopia and that advantageous threat of a cliff that loomed over their heads. The others would join Neophyte on the hunting expedition, while Silvius willingly stayed behind, most likely to placate him.

Now he could do things how they _should _have been done on the first day. He took the two tributes from four and Silvius' partner, just so that they had some collateral and the whole situation wouldn't get messy. He wasn't sure what Silvius was thinking, but he had intended to bring the pair from four all along. The girl seemed like a decent contender, but the boy was utterly useless.

Neophyte led them in the general direction of the river, but he had enough foresight to creep through the forest instead of trample through it. If they had done this yesterday, they wouldn't have had a need for stealth. The only thing he could imagine Silvius was up to was prolonging the Games, perhaps to drag more excitement and suspense out of it this year than in the past.

He had to admit, if Silvius' carefully thought out plans worked, he might succeed. It was a methodological hunt, executed perfectly according to plan, thought out with harsh reason and practicality. It might be enough to hold the Capitol's attention. Due to its slow nature, it was unlikely to ever be repeated in future Games.

Neophyte, for all his temper and quickness to action, knew when he had to be patient to receive the results he desired. He worked diligently, even though tracking wasn't his forté. Luckily, the tributes had not been keen on concealing their tracks as they ran for their lives. His efforts finally paid off. By that time, it was already darkening outside. They would have to set up camp for the night.

The boy was squirming underneath his boot, more out of pain than fear. Neophyte could not recall which district he came from.

Silvius never dictated how he could kill his victims. He snarled at the two girls who tried to narrow in on his kill. However, he supposed that if he was to play Silvius' game (and he had already stepped into it, anyhow), then he should draw out the deaths as much as possible.

The District 4 boy hung around in the back, uninterested, disengaged. He and the boy underneath Neophyte's foot were remarkably similar. For some reason, the body pinned beneath his weight was mildly struggling, wheezing in pain, and a little fearful, but he wasn't pleading for his life.

In fact, he wasn't fighting very hard, either.

"Hold him down," he commanded of the other two.

The girls scowled. The one from one said in disdain, "Who died and made you king? Don't we get in on the fun, too?"

He scowled right back. "Fine. Don't kill him quickly. Who knows when we'll find the next one."

_Actually, _he thought, _that might not be too far off._ He was aware of the boy from four behind him. He would have to try and think of ways to get rid of him without damaging Andromeda's reputation at home.

They started on the boy, tearing into him with knives, mostly, which were the best method they had of causing painful, nonlethal wounds. Carmen, from One, kicked dirt in his open gashes, eliciting a sharp screech and wail. The forest floor here was nearer the river, so it was sandier, and the dirt was splashed with red so dark it might have been just water darkening the earth.

And Neophyte remembered his training. It had been full of physical combat, of course, but he always intended on following in his father's footsteps and so he learnt politics, too. Someday he would become a Peacekeeper. His father had waited decades to have a kid, so by this time he really only trained kids in the Academy. Younger men had taken his place as Head Peacekeeper. Neophyte figured that he had a kid so that that kid could succeed him.

And he was fine with that. He had a future guaranteed for him, unlike many of the other people living in the Districts.

And still, he had decided to gamble it away on a game of life and mainly death.

The boy cried out, but he had not spoken this entire time, even when Neophyte threatened him. He had never even seen the suggestion of a plea on his lips, but he saw it in his eyes.

_Kill me. Please kill me._

_Sorry,_ he thought, even though he didn't feel that apologetic, _but the audience wants violence and violence is what they will get, or else the rest of us will suffer, too._

Still, the boy from Four watched with lackadaisical eyes and made no comment. The girl from One seemed the most into it, besides him.

When they had come close to cutting off a few appendages, Andromeda stopped. "We're getting into overkill, aren't we?" she said, probably sounding harsher than she meant to.

Neophyte hesitated and nodded. Right.

He had forgotten that a very long time ago, he had stared up at the screen and wondered why people had to be so horrible and ugly during death. He never valued beauty or placed much importance on it, but as a child, that had been perplexing. Now, he still forgot that wonder and those questions, except with the scars on his leg and arm throbbed.

The boy was dying, but he had grabbed that spot where Neophyte still ached. He didn't grip it harshly. His hand was soft like a child's, barely there. There were words on his lips, but no sound came out. He gestured to his right hip, where his shirt had ridden up a bit.

Neophyte's eyes widened a fraction and he put the boy out of his misery with a stab to the neck. The blood splattered onto his scars throbbed, but he knew the pain was only a ghost.

* * *

• The boy is Dextera Koriel.


	7. recollect, reconnect

**The Forest That Whispered...**

_...you shall die._

...Day Two...Evening

-recollect, reconnect-

* * *

Bright bursts of pain shredded his nerves, involuntary screams slipped from his cracked lips. Vivid, formless shapes danced before his eyes, warping the faces jeering down at him. At least, he thought they were jeering._ No,_ he corrected himself, _they were always jeering._

His gaze wandered across his body, the body that had long since stopped belonging to him, and he stared absently at the blood and dirt smeared across his wounds. The skin was torn, jagged, falling off in places, and a knife was twisting in his gut.

It might have seemed sort of crazy for him to say this - and people had always thought he was a bit crazy, a bit touched in the head, after that incident - but the truth was that Dextera had felt worse pain before. He had felt that searing, burning, never ending pain that ripped his body apart from the inside out.

That was why he didn't protest, didn't fight. The pain Dextera could feel after the operation was minimal. The healers could never pry it from him: was it that his nerves truly didn't perceive pain as sharply as before or did he simply not respond, ignoring it altogether?

To even call it an "operation" was tacking too much glory onto the procedure that had tore Dextera's life from him. He might have been the one left breathing, the one who could still see and hear and touch, but he couldn't be the lucky one.

"Aren't you so lucky to be going to the Capitol?"

_"Aren't you lucky that you survived the surgery? There was less than a fifty-fifty chance that you would make it..."_

"Why won't you speak? What's wrong with him?"

_"His vocal chords were untouched. They should be working fine."_

Dextera Koriel had not spoken a word while on the train or in the Capitol, much to the frustration and anger of the people around him. He showed intelligence and attitude, but didn't breathe a word. In fact, his screams were the first sounds he had uttered before the audience since his Reaping.

The people who knew Dextera had always wondered whether or not he was capable of even that. Now they knew.

Anyone could have told his frustrated mentors and the district escort that Dextera Koriel really couldn't talk. He had refused to utter a word since he was nine years old and now he was fifteen, a silent, unimpressive wallflower people hardly noticed. His parents hadn't been able to take care of him when he was young, so he lived in the local orphanage. Perhaps he even saw them from time to time in the crowd, but he wouldn't have known.

Dextera had not felt fear or sadness when he was Reaped, because he was already dead. He had been, for six years now. The only thing that still hurt was the massive scar on his hip, on the same side as his heart, which made the precious organ ache from time to time. It bothered him, the scar tissue, but he had learnt to live with it and now he didn't even limp.

He was mouthing words even he could not hear, words he had screamed when those doctors were tearing him apart, killing him.

_"No, let me die, too! Don't tear us apart! Please! I want to die!"_

Except this time, his wish would be granted. This time there was no overbearing force that commanded him to live, to continue suffering in a world from which his most precious person had left him alone. Of course he still remembered his face even after six years, because they looked exactly alike.

Dextera had been born an identical, conjoined twin. They were connected at the waist and shared a single heart - the heart that was fluttering weakly in his chest at that very moment. After tentative nine years passed, that single heart had stopped being able to sustain two lives and began to fail them. One twin had to die in order to save the other's life.

They both begged to die together, because from the very start they were alone in this world with only each other to depend on. It was more than most people had in their District, but they had no concept of that since they had grown up in a hospital bed, never leaving their room.

It was a shame, the doctors and volunteer medics expressed, since they would probably have been the only ones to escape the Reaping. In that sense, both brothers had been considered dead to the world from the start - there were only three groups in the districts that could not participate in the Hunger Games: those too old and those too young to qualify, and the dead. It would have been impossible to bend the rules because the Capitol could not take one without the other.

_"Don't kill my older brother! Please don't! Let us die together."_

They didn't have much anesthetic, and so the only wish Dextera ever had granted was for them to use it on his brother instead of him, even if he meant he would pass out from the pain. At nine, he didn't have to think twice about that. He was going to become half of a person, so he might as well allow his brother to leave this world without excruciating pain.

Because, in essence, he was stealing Aristera's life and Aristera was sacrificing himself so that Dextera could live.

Even if they were a minute or two apart in age, the older brother still felt that he had to look after his little brother. And so they were separated. Aristera Koriel died. Dextera Koriel lived. His name was entered in the Reaping when he turned twelve.

Three years later, he might have even felt a small flutter of happiness in that tired heart of his when his name was called.

No one might have heard it, right before the surgery or as the Careers stood over him, his blood fleeing his body, but the last word he ever uttered was, "_Aristera."_

* * *

• "Aristera" literally means left in Greek. Dextera means "right hand".

• I don't know if, by sharing a heart, they would have been able to live that long, but that's how the canon went so *shrug*.


	8. discarding our prejudices, we

**The Forest That Whispered...**

_...you shall die._

...Day Three...Mid-afternoon

-discarding our prejudices, we...-

* * *

Larkin Shearwater had watched someone die.

It was not the first time, although the memories from his childhood were hazy at best, clouded over by a fog he could never quite seem to shake. And after that, all he knew was a bland world where nothing mattered quite so much anymore.

People died, and people continued living, and that was that. The world was cruel sometimes, but that was the nature of all things that existed, and all they could ever do was accept it and move on.

He had a feeling that he was next and wondered if he should have been more concerned about his impending death. He had seen the thinly concealed glances of enmity that the District 2 boy, Neophyte, had been shooting in his direction. Perhaps it would be as bloody as that boy's death, a death that had dragged on and on until he was hardly recognizable as a human being anymore.

It had not been a natural death in the least and that, more than anything, was what Larkin managed to process in the whole time that he was watching the scene unfold. In a forest so thick and solitary, covered in moss and draped in shadows, it was a death that simply didn't belong.

Maybe Larkin was over thinking it.

They stopped around mid-afternoon to eat some of the rations they had brought along, and as they quietly chatted amongst themselves, Larkin's thoughts wandered again. He ignored Andromeda's efforts to ask him questions, simply because he didn't really hear her speak.

Something strange had happened last night. Something that he could not rationalize.

It was his shift of the night watch, not that he could have done much if something major had happened. He had been thinking of drifting off to sleep just to spite the others, because sitting around in the dark with only the weakest of light from the dying fire was creepy and boring.

A sharp cry lifted into the night, climbing over the distant calls of the owls and insects with a shrill clarity that was too inhuman to have belonged to anything real. Yet, Larkin had been unable to classify it as anything but human, because there was a scream behind that wail, as well, a distinctly human sound.

And when he reached out curiously into the pitch black gaps between the trees, something _very_human had brushed against his arm. It was the cool sensation of skin, just a brief moment of contact before it disappeared.

Larkin glanced down at his left hand. Beneath the thick gloves were tiny puncture wounds, the bite marks of some small animal. Nothing had happened to him since it bit him, so he assumed it was just a normal animal, nothing of the Capitol's creation. It itched a bit and was an angry red, but he wasn't feverish or anything yet.

That didn't explain the scream, or the person he had felt beyond the trees.

It would have been so easy to kill him - to kill _all _of them - then. Now he was waiting for Neophyte's patience to run thin.

"Isn't there anything useful you can do?" the District 2 boy said brusquely, snapping Larkin from his reverie about the bite wound and his own uncertain fate. Carmen looked bored as she sat against a tree, nibbling on a piece of bread. Andromeda cast Larkin an edgy glance. He couldn't decide if it was nervous or annoyed.

Larkin shrugged. Should he try to cling to this alliance for a bit longer, or was it time to give up and accept the fact that he was going to die? Of course, Larkin didn't _want _to die, but he looked into Neophyte's eyes with his usual indifference and saw that the District 2 boy would not back down. He didn't know everyone's reasons for wanting to win. He didn't need to know them.

"If I'm so useless, then kill me," Larkin finally announced. He wasn't sure if anyone except for his district partner noticed it, but his hands and legs had begun to tremble when he spoke. It didn't matter how much he rationalized: _this is the way life is, sometimes cruel, sometimes kind, like the ocean that blesses us with food and washes away all the fruits of our labors. There is no way to change the course of nature._

He was still a sixteen year old boy. And death was still the scary abomination that had lurked in his dreams since his childhood, the demon that had stolen his parents from him before he knew anything about the true nature of the world.

But Larkin made a promise to his parents, as well, and right now he was trying to decide which of those would win the battle raging in his heart.

Neophyte was getting up, hands twisting around a knife's curved hilt. Andromeda was staying out of it. Carmen was reaching for her weapon. He had practically given them full permission to kill him.

No one would be sad if he died, except for his family. He was alright with that. There was no reason for other people to pity him or feel sadness for someone they had never met, right?

His eyes flickered between the two and their weapons uncertainly. He had to keep reminding himself that he had chosen death before death had chosen him. If he didn't, he would have broken down already. He didn't _want _to die, but...

He took an unconscious step backwards, one after another, and his breath came out in sharp little pants. And his fists clenched and he thought that it was only human to fight in the face of death, even if it was an inevitable fate. Only the truly hopeless - like that boy they had killed - would accept it and sit back quietly without fighting.

The ferns brushed at his ankles and fingertips, deep green and alive, impersonal to the events unfolding around them.

And someone whispered on the air, ___So you __**do**__ care about living, little human..._

He started badly, looked around wildly for the source of that ethereal sound. This wasn't Neophyte's voice, clear and ringing in neither the sky above, nor that of anyone he had ever heard of in all his short years of life.

_And here I thought you were special. Humans are such selfish little creatures. You are all fickle, fickle beasts, _it chuckled grimly, though no one else heard it echo in the forest. _This isn't a place where humans belong. Leave this place. This forest belongs to neither the living, nor the dead._

And Larkin Shearwater did not die that day.

* * *

- Sorry updates stopped for the time being...I didn't have internet access for weeks and got really busy afterwards.

- Things start getting kinda funny this chapter. But it'll be some time before we discover what's really up.


End file.
